My Old Man Had It Right
by spicygurl
Summary: But, I'd allowed myself to believe, my old man may have had the right idea. Sometimes taking a step back is the best thing to do if it means you won't hurt anyone else. Slash.


**Warning: Slash, albeit very subtle.  
><strong>**Pairing: Dallas/Pony  
><strong>**Disclaimer: I do not own The Outsiders.**

* * *

><p><span>My Old Man Had It Right<span>

_**Ponyboy Curtis was friendly.**_

He sat down next to me on the first day of school. His history textbook stacked on top of his other notebooks. There's no way on earth the kid was supposed to be in a class full of juniors; he barely looked old enough to be in high school to begin with.

"Hey, kid," he looked up and over at me, "You in this class?"

"This is two-eleven US history, right?" he asked slightly panicked. He pulled out a sheet of paper. I concluded it was his schedule.

I arched an eyebrow, a trick my mom said I inherited from my old man, since I've been doing it for as long as I can remember. She didn't really talk about him much. Not since he left us.

"Relax, kid. I was just askin' a question. How old are you?"

"Fifteen," he replied.

"I knew you looked too young to be in this class! What are ya, some kind of kid-genius?"

He shook his head, looking slightly embarrassed, "No, I just skipped a couple grades." It sounded like he was going to say something else, you know, explain some more stuff about himself, but instead he opened up a notebook, and dated the top of the paper.

_August 23, 1964_

"The name's Two-Bit," I introduced myself, without extending my hand for him to shake. "Wanna hang out at lunch?"

He looked me over, "I'm Ponyboy Curtis."

_**He had a pretty rough past.**_

"My dad left me, my mom and my sister a few months ago," I shared with him as we walked to my car. I gotta admit he followed me out here without any argument or hesitance. For someone he just met, and as tough-looking as I am, the kid sure trusted me easy enough. That alone told me I had to look out for him. Not that I minded, he was a pretty cool kid.

"I really don't give a flyin' hoot where he is anymore. He could be dead for all I care."

Ponyboy was already a quiet kid, but he seemed to get much quieter in the past few minutes. "My parents died a few months ago..."

So that's what was bugging him, "How?"

He shrugged, and looked out the window. "Just, you know, a car crash. Their car got stuck on the tracks, and the train came ... but it was too late to..."

"Jesus, kid, I didn't know!" Now I really felt stupid. Failing eleventh grade twice has nothing on how idiotic I felt at the moment. Here I was wishing death on my old man when he'd lost both of his parents, how dumb is that?

His shoulders rose and fell, as he gazed out the window.

"So... who do you live with now?"

"My brothers; they take real good care of me."

The rest of the car ride was somewhat silent; he filled me in on how his life has been so far without his parents. He told me how his oldest brother gave up college, and his other one dropped out of school, just so he wouldn't have to go to some kind of boys' home. He seemed to perk up a bit when he started in on how big his oldest brother's muscles were.

"You mean bigger than these?" I flexed a bit, taking one hand off the steering wheel.

He laughed, a cute sound coming from him. "Much bigger! Like ... like over-sized baseballs!"

Psh, I'd be the judge of that.

_**And his brothers were as beautiful as he was.**_

It might have looked like I was hiding behind Ponyboy ... but I wasn't. Pony, however, begged to differ as he was still laughing his pants off over the whole situation.

"He's not gonna hurt ya... not unless you do something to make him mad," Pony managed out between giggles. I know, I know, boys don't 'giggle,' but what else could I use to describe how cute his laugh was?

"I ain't afraid of your older brother," I whispered harshly, "Just so you know."

"Oh yeah? Why were you hiding behind me then?"

"I wasn't _hiding_; I was just waiting for you to introduce us."

He just shrugged, maybe the hundredth time since I met him a few days ago, "I told you he had big muscles."

"Yeah, but you didn't say I was about to meet Superman himself," and I wasn't exaggerating. The boy, although he was attractive just like Pony, was very tall, at least six-feet, and he looked like he'd have no trouble juicing me.

"Superman?" and apparently, he'd heard me call him that, because he was now staring at me, amused. That confused me. "I've been called everything in the book, but I've never heard _Superman_."

Then, as if that wasn't surprising enough, he patted me on the back and asked if I was staying for dinner.

_**I picked him up for school the next day.**_

"What's up with you this morning? I usually can't shut ya up," I tried, but he wouldn't even look at me. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay. It's just ... I dunno, I don't really have a lot of friends. You know, that are my age."

"You don't need any, you've got me!"

"I know, but ... you're nineteen, and I think ... I get on your nerves sometimes?"

Now I was shocked, "You don't get on my nerves, kid. And, if age is an issue, I think I'm younger than you are. 'Least I act like it." He wasn't much happier. "Tell ya what, after-school, what do ya say I introduce you to some of my buddies?"

That perked him up a bit, and he looked up at me, those green eyes burning the side of my face with their beauty, "Are they nice?"

I grimaced, thinking of Dallas Winston, one of my friends. Nice wasn't exactly the adjective I'd use to describe him or any greaser really. But I could tell this kid, Ponyboy, hadn't been exposed to people like Dally Winston, or Tim Shepard. Real hoods. And I knew it wasn't his fault, his brother's probably wouldn't let him within spitting distance of people like them.

"Nice isn't a word you use to describe greasers, kiddo," he nodded, clearly storing this information in his mind. Someone had to teach him the rules of being a grease, and if it wasn't going to be his brothers, I would do what I could.

I pulled into the parking lot, greaser side of course, and stepped out of the car. "Meet me right here after school today, alright?"

_**I didn't fancy how he looked at Dallas.**_

"This is Steve Randle, he fixes cars at the DX," I introduced, but he seemed to be looking Steve over with familiarity. "Do you know him?"

Steve asked Pony a question of his own, "You're Sodapop's kid brother, ain't ya? You look a lot like."

Ponyboy nodded, "Yeah, we met before, too."

Steve scoffed turning to me, "You've gotta stop bringing kids to hang out with us, Two-Bit, they're really slowing us down."

There was no hiding the amount of offence Ponyboy took in that statement. The kid was like a book, his emotions written clearly across his face, and going so far as to affect his posture.

I ignored Steve though; I liked the kids that I brought to meet my friends. There was Johnny Cade, who wasn't here at the moment, and now Ponyboy Curtis, and they were both tough enough as far as I was concerned.

"This is Dallas Winston, Pony," that was introduction enough for a hood as serious as Dally was. He was leaned against the back of my car, smoking a cigarette, looking as frightening as ever. I was expecting Ponyboy to be hidden behind me, just as I was when I met his older brother.

But he wasn't.

He looked at Dallas, his eyes filled with wonder and amazement. As if Dallas was some kind of God come to Earth. I've seen this before, when I brought Johnny to meet the guys. His eyes were glued to Dallas from that very first minute, just as Pony's were now. But, I was much more bothered by Pony looking at Dally like that, than Johnny doing it.

Dally nodded at him, in a cool way that made Pony smile and blush a bit, "How you doin', kid?"

I could guess what Dally was thinking, and I didn't like it one bit.

_**They** **started hanging out without me.**_

It was Ponyboy, Johnny and Dallas, always, going to The Dingo, the drive-in, or just bullshitting around town. I very rarely hung out with Ponyboy anymore. If it weren't for the fact that I had to drive Pony to school five days a week, I doubt I'd even see him at all.

_**They started dating.**_

I'm not surprised. This was inevitable what with the way they flirted as if no one was in the room with them. Pony would look into Dally's eyes, purse his lips, and fidget with the hem of his shirt, or the belt loops on his jeans.

_He never did that around me, _I thought bitterly. And I couldn't put myself above the jealousy that brewed within me; the bitterness that flowed through my words when I talked to either of them.

_**I ignored them.**_

And in no way did I attempt to make my distaste subtle. I saw them walking up the street together, and I made a point of turning the other direction. As if they even cared to notice, what with the way they were "lost in each other's eyes." They didn't need to be together for me to make a full 180 either, one was more than enough.

_**Ponyboy caught on pretty fast.**_

He stopped me one day by my locker at school, his hip cocked to one side and his bottom lip sticking out slightly.

"You could have called me or at least told Darry that you weren't going to pick me up for school this morning. I waited for half-an-hour," Pony said in a very annoyed tone. He was right, I should have called Darry, but there was always that one-in-three chance that Pony would have been the one to answer the phone, and that would have put a hole through my whole ignoring game.

I shrugged, pretending to be unaffected by the truth in his statement. We stared at each other for a while, his vibrant, green eyes piercing through my body, and sending shivers down my spine. I couldn't take this; he was reducing me to a weak, defenseless fool. Quickly, I shut my locker and turned in the opposite direction, even if my class wasn't exactly that way.

"Wait," Pony said, placing his small hands on my bare arm, his slender fingers gripping my skin lightly. "Are you mad at me, Two-Bit?"

This was something I had to actually think about. Was I really mad at Dally and Pony for ditching me to hang with each other, for becoming good friends, for falling in love with each other? Or was I angry at myself for never having enough guts to tell Pony how I felt about him, never making a move for him?

Slowly, I shook my head 'no.'

"Then why aren't you talking to me anymore?" And those eyes, those damn eyes, were forcing my guard down, and I couldn't bring myself to ignore him anymore. I groaned, or grunted really, and closed my eyes to shut off those two pieces of kryptonite.

"Pony..." I whispered, knowing that the other students were giving me strange looks and not caring, "I just need to ... get away for a little while."

He was silent then, unmoving as others jeered and joked around us. Finally, after what felt like forever, Pony exhaled, his fingers slowly running down my arm, ticking my skin with the pads of his fingers, before they disappeared around my wrist.

"Are you going to come back?" he asked his voice soft and innocent. It was in that moment that I remembered just how young and how sheltered he'd been for his whole life. Sure, he didn't know why I was leaving, but I knew he understood and respected the fact that I need my space.

My eyes still closed, I nodded, "Yeah, I'll come back."

"Okay..." and I could feel his presence vanishing from me, the warmth that he provided — even in these circumstances — vaporizing as he walked away.

_**I left at 2 in the morning before my mom or sister woke up.**_

As I was tossing a few shirts and jeans into a couple of bags I found around the house, I thought with little humor that my mother was finally getting her wish: I was cleaning my room.

Silently, I picked up my bags, snuck through the kitchen and out the back door. The trunk of my car was already propped open, and I placed my things in before closing it as quietly as possible. But I'm not heartless; I wasn't just going to walk out on my family without leaving a note — I may have been leaving my problems like my father did, but I wasn't going to leave them to cry every night, wondering where I was or if I was alive or not.

Snatching a pencil and the notepad that was kept by the phone for messages, I scribbled quickly:

_Dear Mom and Kristi,_

_Things have come up that I need to handle on my own. I know what you're thinking, Mom, but it's no one's fault but mine. I'll be back, I don't know when exactly, and I don't know where I'm going, so don't look for me. Just trust that I'll be back. I love you, and Kristi, be strong for Mom, okay? You've gotta take care of her now._

_Your son and brother,_

_Keith_

And as I pulled out of my driveway for the last time in a while, I couldn't bring myself to deny the fact that I had become what I'd feared most; I'd become my father. But, I'd allowed myself to believe, my old man may have had the right idea. Sometimes taking a step back is the best thing to do if it means you won't hurt anyone else.

I guess, in the end, it turns out my old man had it right.


End file.
